The Duke Diaries by Sophia Nash Page B

without a word.
    “Love does not promise happiness,” he said, evading her question.
    “I never suggested it did,” she replied softly.
    He pursed his lips. Today had obviously been a bloody waste of time, not to mention the cost of the food, and wine, and the effort to arrange the fruit artfully dripping from family crystal. He could have saved a lot of guineas by just using the elements on her hat.
    Thank God the unmistakable sound of footsteps intruded.
    “Coward,” Verity whispered as he backed slightly away.
    A cool breeze fluttered through the swirling leaves of the nearby weeping willow, and two ladies arm in arm approached. One of the females had an expression that promised a knife in the back during the dead of night, whilst the other had that seductive, bemused look he had tried to forget for so many long years. Well at least his effort to provide a show for his guests had worked. Verity would be one step closer to accepting the inevitable by the end of the day.
    “Fancy that,” Lady Mary Haverty said, stopping a few feet from them but addressing her walking companion. “I declare that now we’ve come all this distance, Miss Talmadge, I’m sorry to beg off rowing about in the heat of the afternoon with you. But perhaps . . .” She, of the daggers in her gaze, squarely looked at him.
    He turned from the auburn-haired lady to the blond beauty.
    Phoebe Talmadge smiled at him, her fine expression shimmering like a rose at the peak of bloom compared to Mary, who resembled a cross patch of nettles. Who was he to disappoint? He knew how to retreat, reassess, and regroup with the best of them.
    “It would be my pleasure, Miss Talmadge.” He extended his arm.
    “Oh, but I am perfectly capable of going it alone, Your Grace,” Phoebe purred. “No need to trouble yourself.”
    “I cannot allow it, my dear,” he insisted, as he should. “I must assist you. Especially since I’m not furthering my cause here.”
    Phoebe exhibited the same coy smile Catharine had used expressly in his direction and lay her pale, thin arm along the top of his.
    He didn’t really want to go, but all his plans, schemes, and other ill-thought-out ideas, which had previously proved successful, needed time to simmer. “It’s my pleasure. Oh, and Lady Fitzroy?” He turned slightly to address her.
    “Yes,” she replied, not lifting her head. All he could see was the brim of her atrocious bonnet.
    “I was sad to learn from my steward that the signs we discussed are still not in evidence. Why, another collision with a ewe was very narrowly avoided just today.”
    She raised her brows. “I am to produce a sign that both people and sheep can read? How singular.”
    He winked at her. “I’m certain that superior Fitzroy brain of yours will figure it out. I do, however, pray you are the sort of person whose word once given is their bond.”
    She pursed her lips in annoyance. “My word, Your Grace? I rather think you would not care to hear what sort of vow I am making right now in the privacy of my mind.” She turned on her heel and Lady Mary Haverty rushed after her, the dark green silk of her skirting trailed behind.
    “I ’m so sorry, Verity,” Mary began, her long strides soon catching up to hers. “Norwich and Esme would not allow me to go to you. They said it would only draw further attention, which was not true.”
    “How ridiculous, Mary. No one in Derbyshire cares two sticks about a couple milling about a lake in plain view.”
    “Perhaps, but you were not in plain view. The only thing in partial view was Abshire’s back, and his head was quite obviously tilted down to meet your own.”
    “What on earth are you suggesting?”
    “Exactly what you are picturing in your mind this minute. If all those on the hill above us”—Mary gave a twirl to her pretty parasol and kept a wide smile planted on her face, to have all the world believe they were speaking of nothing more important than the beauty of the